


Knights on a Roll

by RoverMaelstrom



Category: Dystopia Rising (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Accidental Murder Squad, Final Knights, Gatorland, Gen, NPC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoverMaelstrom/pseuds/RoverMaelstrom
Summary: A journal entry from some random edgelord Final Knight about the night they accidentally survived murdering a lot of people.





	Knights on a Roll

We crouched in the shadows, hushed voices discussing the plan, not that there was much of one.

Tonight had been a disaster. We had been betrayed and our Lord killed, that thirty three times cursed saint destroying him, destroying all our work, leaving our plans in ashes. Well, ashes would be all their settlement would be come morning. We had nothing left to lose and were ready to die.

The soldiers split off and moved down the road while myself and my companions crept through the shadows towards the edge of town. We paused and waited, quietly mocking the utter lack of guards. Did these simpletons really believe that now that Canis was dead the world would be sweetness and light? We turned our weapons over in our hands, absently checking them one last time, we chuckled amongst ourselves. Tonight, we would remind all these fools that this is hell and there is never respite.

We watched the knot of soldiers walk openly across the open area in the center of town, unchallenged and unnoticed, but as they moved, so did we, darting through the shadows, behind buildings, moving ever closer to the saloon, three silent shadows in the night. The townsfolk, finally noticing the soldiers when the first dwelling's door was broken in, rushed out, gathering in the light pooled around the saloon and clustering together in front of our forces, looking for all the world like a group of scared little children playing with swords. As we skulked through the trees we heard the clash of battle and the panicked screams of those dying in their beds, bleeding out on the ground, desperately crying for medics that would never come.

Finally, we were at the saloon. We rushed through the open area, darting to the back door to cut down those who were trying to run. Our soldiers had cut a swathe through the pitiful defenders, scattering them like rabbits, the screams of the dying and the cries for help echoing like music in our ears. Our work was succeeding beyond all belief and the soldiers separated, running down those who still stood. My companions and I split up, with one taking out the lights in the saloon and slipping in to destroy those who'd trusted in it's sanctuary, myself guarding the back, killing those that tried to escape or who had been wounded by the soldiers, and the last of us chasing down the runners, funneling them back towards the rest of us.

After the screams had risen to a crescendo, I rounded the corner of the saloon to seek out more victims, even as one of our men murdered a priest of that accursed Sainthood as she lay on the ground sobbing. The last of my companions bounded towards me, a warrior larger and more deadly looking desperately running away from him. I dived in, blocking all but one avenue of escape, and laughed in triumph as the warrior ran straight into our soldier and fell, sprawled on the ground. My companion and I quickly finished him and as we went for the final cut, his last words were “Fuck you. I'm the last one left. Just finish it.” As I swung the last blow, I looked around, realizing in shock that he was right. Already, the bodies of the slain were being absorbed by the Gravemind, splashes of blood the only indication that anyone had ever been there.

\----

We re-formed and looked at each other in shock. We'd come into this expecting to die, only wanting to visit revenge on the town, but now the town stood silent and dead while all of us stood whole and sound, still flying high on the slaughter. We laughed as we gathered together again in the woods, savoring the sweetness of the slaughter. As we discussed the battle, we realized something that made our victory all the sweeter. The local group that contained the majority of those actually trained in combat had all been missing from the carnage. It seemed that they'd already retired for the night, certain of their safety now that Canis no longer walked the earth. Our laughter took on an evil edge as we headed, refreshed, towards their barracks, jauntily preparing to rain more death and destruction on these trusting fools.

\------

We reached their barracks and my companions and I began circling it, tapping on the windows, whispering into the cracks, and otherwise stirring fear into their hearts. The soldiers began to dismantle the barricade against the door, not even bothering to stay quiet. Gradually, we heard the occupants of the cabin begin to stir, curses and grumbles seeping through the walls. My companions and I giggled – we could tell that they had no idea what they were in for.

Finally, the door gave way and our soldiers poured in. I heard the sound of bullets bouncing off of shields as I stood concealed in the doorway, ready to take down anyone who sought to flee. However, it quickly appeared that my services wouldn't be necessary – the noises inside indicated that our soldiers had things well in hand. After a bare couple of minutes, the gunfire stopped and I felt a shadow race past the door, too fast and blurry to quite see correctly. Looking over, I saw the foreign Lascarian skulking in the shadows, gun drawn, assessing the situation. Not even bothering to chase him, my companions and I poured into the building, finishing the doctor and watching as the last of the defenders fell. As we left, the Lascarian made as if to attack us, but when one of my companions rounded on him, he quickly gave it up as a bad idea and fled.

Once again, we reformed. There were a couple of losses, but we didn't care – we'd come to die and had accomplished so much more than we'd dreamed as we set out earlier that night. Now, now our work was done and all that was left was fun.

We roamed back into town, battered and exhausted, but high on the energy that the 33 sent us to achieve their holy work. We rounded on a single cabin, off to the corner of the town, that we knew had people hiding in it. Their barricade was pitiful, but we took our time breaking it down. As the remaining soldiers leisurely dismantled it, my companions and I circled the building, sowing fear. I told them how much their souls would please the 33, sang them songs of hell, pointed out the glow of the Iron Born attempting to hide. This, this was pure pleasure. We could taste the fear. Right as our soldiers finally finished destroying the barricade, we heard the town guard. A quick consultation among us decided it – we were too battered for another fight. It would be better, far better, to run, leaving those souls to marinate in their fear, waiting. We'd find them again – it's hell, after all. The nightmares never go away. It is our sacred purpose to make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is from the point of view of the NPC I played the first time I traveled to Gatorland.


End file.
